Mass Effect: The Other
by Academ
Summary: Kaine, Peter Parker's, darker, brooding clone is mysteriously transported into the Mass Effect Universe, where Commander Shepard has just been resurrected by the shady Cerberus corporation and is seeking out the dossiers of the best killers and skilled individuals the Galaxy has to offer. Rated M for language mostly, and some blood and gore.


**Mass Effect: The Other**

**I do not in any way own Mass Effect or the Scarlet Spider. These characters, along with their respective universes, were fashioned by better writers than myself. They deserve all the credit for this story.**

I haven't ever had the chance to think about it since I left Houston. Mexico didn't last long. Only ever got to let my toes sink into the sand for an hour before Fiara Namora came along. Then somehow I was fighting the High Evolutionary with a bunch of children. They called themselves the New Warriors. Aracely likes to think that she was the reason I eventually joined up with them.

But that wasn't it.

I joined them because I knew that eventually, without someone (or rather _something_) like me to protect them, they would all die. And it would have been my fault, because as much as I wish I could live by the motto "All of the Power, None of the Responsibility," contrary to my idiot brother's philosophy, I always seem to have responsibility shoved straight into my hands, regardless of whether or not I asked for it. Which I didn't. I never have. Probably never will.

I'd be lying if I said I never found myself enjoying my time with the New Warriors. They were good (stupid) kids. Most of them had self-righteous ideals, the naivety of which I found to be endlessly annoying, but that wasn't what made them special. What made them special, what made me feel like I actually belonged in their team, was that each of them had their demons. Demons that were perhaps even darker than my own, given my general impression of Speedball. Seriously haunting stuff.

There's not a single night when I don't have nightmares about _her_. I can only imagine how screwed up that kid's mind has been like since his powers acted up and blew up his school, killing all of his classmates along with the other students and faculty in the process. That was the kind of thing that fucked you up for life.

The only thing I can think of that could possibly be worse than that is coming back to life, being granted a second chance, when you know you don't deserve one. When you know that there are so many other strong, heroic souls who would be able to make the world a lot better place than you ever could have. I know this because I came back to life once, and I have found myself wondering ever since:

_Why me?_

The deranged clone. The imperfect copy. Decaying since birth. Killing innocents because he couldn't understand why he was born a monster. Meant to be a killer, and seemingly only good at that one thing. Who tortured his brother Ben, who was a good man. A better man than he could ever be.

My name is **Kaine** and I am not a hero.

_I really should be dead._

The gurney nearly crashes into the side of the wall when whatever moron is pushing it runs a corner. The sudden lurch that comes with the change of direction almost throws the body bag I'm in off the corpse cart altogether. I swear to myself that as soon as I find the zipper, I'm going throw said moron through a wall. Or two if he doesn't look hurt enough after going through just one.

The gurney goes down a couple more straight hallways before stopping before what I can only assume is a door to the morgue or something. "Hey, Serina," says a nasally voice, "can you buzz me in?"

"You forget your ID again?" another voice replied. It sounded tired and annoyed in a "no fucks given" sort of way. And feminine too, I noticed.

I hear the guy scratch the back of his stupid head, "Uh yeah. Look, I promise this is the last time it'll happen, okay? There's, uh, no need to tell Yelaris about this."

"Whatever." The door dinged like you might expect an elevator to when it finally arrives at its floor and the gurney started moving again, albeit a little more slowly than it had been before. The room must be small. I tried to use one of my stingers to tear through the body bag again, but it just glided harmlessly across the inner mesh it was lined with. What the fuck was the thing made of, Kevlar? And seriously, how has that idiot not noticed me moving around in here all this time? If I could yell at the idiot, I would. But something is keeping me from saying anything.

I hear the tap-tap high heels approach the gurney. "This is the last time I cover for you Cliff, am I clear?"

"Y-yeah. Crystal."

"Good. Now go clock yourself in."

"Of course, right away." As he scampered off somewhere, I heard the flat clap of a face palm.

"Stupid human," she muttered.

'Stupid human?' I thought. Who talks like _that_?

I heard the cart start to move again. "So, who are you?" she asks no one in particular, but I assume she means me. "A John Doe? Hmmm… That's odd… No records on the Alliance, Citadel, or Terminus databases. You are quite the mystery indeed." I didn't recognize any of those names beyond their formal definition as words. They were probably just a bunch of shadowy government organizations that watch and keep track people. Like SHIELD. Only, I don't really see how any viable acronym could come from any of those words.

"Says here you were found just outside of Telaria Square. Dead. Cause of death unknown. No signs of physical trauma or duress." We slowed down and began to turn. "Between you and me, it was probably an aneurism that did you in. But in the case of any suspicious death, I have to cut people like you open and see for myself. Because it's my job." There was a sadness in those words as she said them.

I felt the gurney lightly collide with a wall or something and come to a stop. "Personally, I would rather not have to do this altogether. I'm sure you were probably a nice guy who was just rushing home to make it on time to have dinner with their family."

Lady, if only you knew how wrong you are.

"But… if it's any consolation, I'll try not to take too long, and do my absolute best to seal up the incision when I'm done." That's so sweet of you, now could you open up the fucking bag already!?

"Dalia, disengage the stasis field and crack the shell open for me, would you?"

"Disengaging." Something responded. It had the monotone that reminded me of a machine. "The seals should break momentarily."

I heard a set of hissing sounds from within the bag. For a moment I find myself wondering why a body bag would have airtight seals installed on it. I mean, could you ever think of a waste of money more blatant than that? But then the light came rushing in, and my eyes were nowhere near ready for it. I couldn't help but groan at the discomfort as I rose from the "dead."

The room was nearly all white and chock full of smooth surfaces that all seemed to bleed into one another. I turned to my left and I saw her. She was… blue, which was odd, to say the least. Her mouth and eyes were wide open in shock. "Uh," I said. "I seem to be missing my clothes. Mind getting me some?" She dropped the round cylindrical instrument that'd been in her hand. The clatter it made when it hit the floor didn't sound right.

"Y-you… You're…" she stuttered.

"Yes, I'm alive. Whoever found me must really not be good at their job." I told her. "Now, if you don't mind. My clothes?"

"I-I…" She took a deep breath and composed herself. "I'll go see if I can find you a gown or something. Don't… Don't go anywhere, okay?" She took two steps back still facing towards me before she turned and walked over to the other side of the room and retrieved the gown. It was different from what I expected it to look like. A little thicker, and made of something that felt like a mixture of polyester and nylon. I took it from her began to put it on. Open butt slot or not, it was better than having nothing to wear altogether.

"Thank you," I said as I finished tying the back of it together.

"I, uh… You're welcome?"

A silence fell upon the room as neither of us could seem to come up with what we wanted to say next. I eventually just decided to call our predicament what it was.

"So… this is awkward."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Certainly weird. Dead guy alive and talking. Haven't ever had that happen before."

"I'm sure you haven't."

"I've been working here for over a hundred years, you know that? This has never happened. Never ever."

"I'm su— Wait what!? A hundred years?" Over a hundred years!?

"Yeah. I wanted to be a doctor, but so did every other Asari, I guess. So, I got stuck here working the job no one in their right mind would ever want to work." I was beginning to get the impression that she was still in shock, just saying whatever came to mind.

"Doctor," I guessed. "Please focus here. What did you mean by 'over a hundred years'?"

She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said after a while. "Sometimes I forget with how much time it's been since your species joined the galactic community that a lot of you still don't know how different our lifespans are. We Asari can live for well over a thousand years. My time here, however long in terms of a human life span, is only a fraction of my own."

"Oh," I replied dumbly, not really sure what to think about any of what she had just said. "You said you were Asari. Is that the name of your species?"

"Yes." She gave me an odd look. "You didn't know that?"

"No," I admitted. "I didn't. I take it such a thing is common knowledge here." Wherever the Hell "here" is.

She nodded. "You'd had to have been, how does the human expression go? 'Living under rock?' for decades now if you hadn't ever managed to come by this information."

"Well, I haven't. And I haven't spent decades living under a rock. I don't really understand anything about this place I am in now. Can you help me understand?"

She thought about it for a second. "Yes. I could help you with this. But before I can, I must ask you something first."

Oh boy, here we go. "Ask away."

"What's your name?"

Such a simple question. It felt refreshing to hear someone ask for it. The last person to do that was Annabelle. I hadn't realized until now how much I missed her.

"My name is Kaine," I told her.

She didn't appear to be visibly startled by the name, which was a personal first. "Is there another name to go with that? I know you humans tend to have two or three."

"No, it's just Kaine." Like Kaine, Kaine?' Annabelle had said.

"Then you may call me Serina." She held out her hand.

I looked at it for a moment before remembering that this was something people who just met each other did. It was kind of sad I hadn't personally done it myself before now. I had some of Peter's lingering memories running somewhere throughout my head that made the gesture strangely familiar, but that was just about it.

I looked her in the eye, took her hand, and shook it.

**A/N: I wanted to apologize beforehand to anyone who has read my Ultimate Spider-Man story and is awaiting some kind of any update. I promise you, one is coming soon. After finals week is over, I should have plenty of time to work on that story, along with some other projects I have in stock. I plan to work on this story as well and I plan on having it take place during the events of Mass Effect 2. I decided to go with Kaine because classic, unadulterated Peter Parker would not really fit into this universe (no offense to the other couple people who have written a cross-over like this one. You're the ones who inspired me to write this one) with all the killing. But Kaine, on the other hand, he was just perfect. Lots of character depth. Dark, brooding, and foreboding… Yeah, I'd say he'd fit in pretty well on the Normandy.**


End file.
